On the Other Side
by Saffron465
Summary: Peter Pettigrew always did what you told him to do. He was always sweet, kind, and generous. But some things that seem permanent can always change.


Peter Pettigrew always did what you told him to do. He never really had a place to fit in. He wasn't brave enough for Gryffindor, nor patient enough for Hufflepuff. He wasn't even smart enough for Ravenclaw or enough of a leader for Slytherin. So, the sorting hat just threw him randomly into Gryffindor, thinking that it would toughen him up.

* * *

He had three best friends at Hogwarts. They all seemed like they cared for him and valued him. Because of this, he felt that he was indebted to them. So he did everything he could for them.

"Could you take this letter up to the owlery for me, Peter?" James passed the letter to Peter, not even looking up from his plate.

"Sure!" Peter cried, eager to help. He hurriedly stood up and ran towards the doors in the Great Hall. He was in such a rush that he didn't notice the steps coming up in front of him. He tripped and fell flat on his face. As he stood up slowly, brushing himself off, he heard laughter. Whipping around, Peter noticed what looked like a blur of dark hair and glasses. _It's probably someone else,_ he thought. He smiled and kept running.

* * *

James slid his back down the wall, mortified. _I didn't mean to, it just slipped out, _he thought. _He's my friend, how could I do that?_ They had been friends for a long time. But Peter had been acting differently lately, more frightened that he would mess up. That he would say or do something wrong and they wouldn't like him anymore. _And I guess it's just messing everyone else up, too._

* * *

That night, Peter laid awake in bed. _Had it been James? Would he do that? Doesn't he care about me?_ He wondered, listening to the rain outside the window. _He's always been a good friend,_ he thought. _But has he?_ He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He finally fell asleep by thinking of all the good things James had picked up his books for him on the first day.

* * *

All good feelings melted into horror as he fell into a deep sleep. A large form reared up in front of him and trampled him, leaving him lying in the street. The cold wet rain poured down onto his head, drenching him in water. Something grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him, pulling him upwards. Every part of his body ached, and he desperately wanted to wake up. Luckily, he got his wish.

* * *

When Peter woke up, he knew this was not going to be a good day. He could sense that something bad was going to happen. Peter tried to shake off the feeling and walked over to James' bed.

"James," Peter whispered, knowing that he would be awake. "James, was that you in the Great Hall yesterday?" His pulse raced, knowing that this answer would change everything he thought. James groaned and rolled over.

"No, what are you talking about?" James' nose twitched. He tried his best to lie without twitching, but it was hard. He just had to hope Peter didn't notice. It was too early to lie anyways, so he got out of bed and grabbed his glasses. "Go talk to Sirius. I'm sure he would love to talk to you at..." he checked the time, "three a.m." He dragged out the words, sounding very annoyed. Peter breathed out a heavy sigh of relief, trembling subtly.

"Oh, that's great." He walked away, beaming.

* * *

_Peter's always been a good friend,_ James thought as he got ready for the day. _He'll be normal today. _He laughed at himself. Just then he remembered. _Today is Quidditch tryouts!_ He pulled on his Gryffindor robes and checked his reflection in the mirror. Meanwhile, Peter worried about, well, everything. He always worried. As he made his way down the stairs with his wand in hand, his heart rate sped as he got closer to the Quidditch pitch.

"Peter!" He heard someone yell behind him. He turned around, seeing James running up to him.

"You're trying out, too?" Peter asked, hope etched in his voice. James nodded. "Just you?" James then shook his head.

"Sirius and Remus are as well. That's fine, right?"

Peter nodded vigorously, afraid he had said something wrong as they stood on the field.

"Alright everyone, it's time for the Quidditch tryouts! Who's up first?" Holden Crawford, the team captain spoke loudly so that all of the students could hear. James bravely flung his arm into the air, and Holden's attention swung over. "Alright, Mr. Potter goes first."

James leapt onto his broom gallantly.

"What should I do first?" He asked, proudly. Holden explained the drills, and Peter watched in awe as James sped through the course.

"Well, looks like we're going to have a great team this year," he muttered to himself. As soon as James was done, they shook hands. "Well done, Mr. Potter. You're on the team." James, Remus, Sirius, and Peter all cheered for their friend. "Who's next?" Peter's hand shook as he slowly raised it, but Sirius was faster.

"I'd like to go, Holden." Sirius zoomed through the course, awarding himself a spot on the team. Of course, Remus got on the team as well, and the rest of their peers who tried out got on. Except for one kid who fell off his broom. He clearly hadn't passed flying in his first year. Then it was Peter's turn.

"Alright, Mr. Pettigrew. Your turn. Last but not least. Let's go." Peter beamed and mounted his broom shakily. He flew around the course pretty well but had some trouble catching the snitch. Then he got whacked off his broom by a practice bludger, and by the end of it, he was exhausted.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Pettigrew, but you didn't meet all of the expectations. Please remember to practice your flying and come back for another try next year!" Holden smiled brightly and Peter felt his heart sink. His friends were all looking at each other and making plans for future games already. _Would they leave me behind?_ Peter thought to himself.

* * *

The days passed slowly, and Peter saw his friends less and less. Every time he would ask one of them to study with him or have a practice duel, they would tell him they had a game or Quidditch practice. "Please, Sirius? It can be short, just half an hour study session in the library?" Peter had stopped Sirius in the hallway as they were switching classes.

"Me? Study?" Sirius snorted. "If I had a Knut for every time you said that, I'd be richer than the minister." He sighed. "Even if I wanted to study, I can't. We have a game this weekend, sorry."

Peter frowned.

"It's okay, I was too busy to do it anyways. I have to get to class, see you later." Peter said, walking past him on his way over to Potions.

* * *

The grass was wet as they all laid down on the field. The divination professor, Professor Truong had requested that tonight they would have a stargazing session for their unit on astronomy. Peter was laying across the field from James, as he was still upset that they weren't talking to him. He saw James stand up and begin to walk over to him, so he quickly picked up his telescope and searched for any constellation. Peter picked up his wand and whispered a short spell to enhance the lens.

"Peter," James whispered. Peter ignored him. "Peter, please talk to me." He put down the telescope and stared blankly at James.

"What?"

"'I'm sorry for not talking to you, it's just we were so busy with Quidditch, and…" he trailed off, looking at the sky. Peter scowled. He felt something growing inside of him, something that felt wrong and right at the same time. _What is this feeling?_

"Whatever. I just wanted to say I'm sorry." James walked away.

Peter shrugged and continued to think. He was still very upset at all of them, but this felt different. It almost felt like… what was the word… He gave up and rolled onto his side.

"Mr. Pettigrew, are you paying attention to the signs of your fate in the stars?" He sat up to find Professor Truong staring at him.

"Um… Yes, Professor," he swallowed, and watched her warily while she walked away. She was one strange teacher.

Suddenly the word hit him like a punch in the stomach. He felt opposite from them.

* * *

And finally, the realization hit him. He wasn't like them. He wasn't sweet, or kind, or generous. He was different. He was tired of following them around and acting like something he wasn't. He had changed, and he felt the need to stay that way.

**Round 1**

**Team and Position: Chudley Cannons, Beater 2**

**Prompts: (dialogue) "If I had a Knut for every time (...) said that." (object) telescope**

**Word count: 1471**


End file.
